Let's go fly a kite
by Wow I really am Trash
Summary: Jehan and Bahorel take advantage of a windy day to go kite flying. Inspired by falling asleep one night while listening to the Mary Poppins soundtrack. Fluffy little one-shot, slash. R&R!


**You can never have too much Jehorel fanfics, in my opinion.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own the Amis, unfortunately. I do, however, own the poem Jehan recites, so there's that.**

Bahorel was never a believer in love at first sight until he met Jehan. He could remember the first time he saw the bright little poet, chattering to Feiully about LGBTQ+ rights in the Musain. The butterfly clips in his ginger hair had been sparkling in the sunlight, and Bahorel found himself wondering if they would alight on the poet's floral blouse to feed. He had fallen hard.

He walked along the pavement now, pinning his baseball cap to his head in an effort to keep it from blowing away. The wind shook the autumn leaves down onto Jehan's head as he danced through the streets, laughing as the gale blew his slight figure to and fro.

He turned to Bahorel, eyes shining. "Isn't this lovely weather, Bahorel? Simply perfect!"

The brawler laughed. "Mon ami, you could find a hailstorm perfect. It's in your poetic nature."

Jehan looped his arms casually around the taller man's neck, and Bahorel felt his heart thump. He refused to see anything more than friendship in Jehan's embrace - the poet was physically affectionate towards everyone, after all.

Any bystander, however, would have noted that Jehan did not touch anyone as gently and sweetly as he did Bahorel.

Jehan grinned into Bahorel's face, and cried, "But don't you see? This is perfect weather - for a kite!"

"A kite?"

"Yes, a kite! I know a man who sells them in the park!"

He set off, clasping Bahorel's huge hand in his own slim one. "Come on!"

As the little poet ran, he sang, his voice high and slightly breathless. Bahorel recognised the song as the one from Mary Poppins, when the Banks family went out to fly a kite together.

"With tuppence for paper and string, we can have our own set of wings! With our feet on the ground we'll be birds in flight...with our fists holding tight, to the string of our kite!"

They bought a blue and green kite from the kite-seller, with a multi-coloured tail dangling behind it. Jehan grasped the brightly coloured toy in his hands, his grey eyes sparking. "You hold the string, mon ami, and we'll run along the green till the kite catches the wind."

He started to run, Bahorel following behind, and he began to sing the rest of his song. "Let's go fly a kite! Up to the highest height! Let's go fly a kite, and send it soaring!" Bahorel's hoarse baritone joined the poet's sweet tenor. "Up through the atmosphere, up where the air is clear! Oh, let's, go...fly a kite!"

The flimsy toy was suddenly lifted out of Jehan's hands, soaring into the grey sky. Bahorel gripped the string tightly, watching the bright speck of blue and green above them. The two watched it hover, grinning broadly.

They stood in silence for a good while until Jehan spoke.

"Up above the world it flies,

green and blue and bright.

Down upon the earth we stand,

flying children's kites."

He looked away, blushing. "Not very good, I know."

Bahorel smiled at him, a soft and genuine smile that made Jehan want to write a thousand poems on it. "I think it's beautiful."

Jehan laughed, pleased. "You thinks so?"

Bahorel blurted, "Well, I think everything you say is beautiful. Jehan, I think that you are beautiful." He regretted the words almost before he said them, looking up at the kite as a distraction.

"You think I'm beautiful? Me?"

Bahorel looked into Jehan's puzzled eyes, and words flew out of his mouth on an impulse. "Beautiful? Jehan, I thought you were beautiful from the moment I met you! You, with your poems and butterfly clips and floral everything! I think-" he faltered, but rallied "-I think I'm in love with you, Prouvaire."

Jehan's eyes opened wide, and the brawler could barely start to curse himself when he felt soft lips on his own, tasting of vanilla and strawberry chapstick. Jehan wrapper his arms around the taller man's neck, deepening the kiss, and Bahorel nearly dropped the kite string in shock and delight.

Jehan's tongue darted into his mouth, and Bahorel gladly allowed the poet to take control of the kiss. He hummed softly as Jehan explored his mouth, and gasped when the poet gave his lower lip a sharp nip with his teeth.

They separated after what felt like a lifetime, and yet they both craved more. Jehan gave a crooked, flushed grin. "Do you have any idea how long I've wanted to do that?"

"Long enough, I'd imagine," Bahorel smirked.

Jehan bumped his snub nose against the crooked one of the brawler.

"Silly! Since forever, I think. At least, since the first time I saw you laugh."

Bahorel kissed the corner of his mouth. "You are the most unbelievably romantic person I have ever met."

Their kiss was cut short by Bahorel suddenly having his arm jerked upwards by the kite string, nearly pulling him over. They turned their attention back to the bright scrap of paper suspended in the autumn sky. Bahorel did his best to steer it in a more manageable fashion, and Jehan simply slipped his arm around the taller man's waist, humming.

 _Let's go fly a kite, up to the highest height..._


End file.
